Drabble Dribbles (The second 100)
by JantoJones
Summary: A series of Man from U.N.C.L.E. drabbles with a word count of 200 and under.
1. Crimson Stain

The crimson stain spread fairly rapidly across the pristine, crisp white fabric, much to the shock of Napoleon Solo. He stared in fascinated horror as the liquid bloomed outwards from its source. His companion grabbed as much absorbent material as was to hand and attempted to prevent any further spreading. It was an entirely futile move as it was already, quite clearly, too late.

"Don't worry," Solo told his date, as he signalled the waiter, and tried not to think of how much it had cost him. "Accidents happen. I'm sure the waiter can get us another bottle of wine."


	2. Spying is a Dangerous Game

The last person Nurse Maisie Redfearn expected to walk into medical, voluntarily, was Illya Kuryakin. He was moving with extreme care and with obvious discomfort.

"What can I do for you, Mr Kuryakin?" the nurse asked, resisting the temptation to make comment on his presence.

"I was on a stake-out among the trees in Central Park and had to answer an urgent call of nature."

Maisie had to call on every ounce of her professionalism as Illya explained his problem.

"I was not aware that poison oak could be found in the city," the Russian continued, gesturing to his groin.


	3. Time to Relax

Illya stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. Despite the water dripping from his body, he padded through to the living room and set a jazz record away on the turntable. Returning to the bedroom he dressed, in sweatpants and t-shirt, to the sounds of Ornette Coleman.

He then went to the kitchen and prepared a glass of tea. Usually, Illya made do with the kettle but, as he was going to relax properly, he used his samovar.

With glass in hand, he sank onto the sofa.

Beep beep, beep beep, beep beep.

Duty called.


	4. Stakeout

The worst part of a stakeout, for Illya, was all the waiting that it involved; especially if it was his partner he was waiting for. Scanning his surroundings, Illya was beginning to wonder what had become of Napoleon. He had been gone for far too long.

Finally, after what had felt like an eternity, Napoleon appeared from around the corner. He dashed over to the car and quickly climbed in.

"Where have you been?" Illya demanded.

"I was only gone ten minutes, Tovarisch," Solo replied, with a sigh. "Now, do you want turkey on rye or cheese salad on white?"


	5. Lunchtime Choice

Having forgotten that the typing pool girls had a set lunch time, Illya found the commissary was packed full when he entered. Normally, he would've left, and come back later, but it had been hours since he'd last eaten. After getting his food, he scanned the room for a spare seat. About three quarters of the tables had an empty seat. Many of the women noticed him searching and several chairs were pulled out for him.

Not wishing to upset any of them, he smiled, nodded his thanks to them all, and headed off to eat lunch in his office.


	6. Bodyguard

Illya's index finger twitched slightly as it hovered over the trigger of his rifle. Scanning the area, he was vigilant for any sign of danger.

Napoleon's contact had been extremely adamant about meeting alone, which had instantly put Illya on alert. As a precaution, and without Solo's knowledge, he followed discreetly and kept his distance. He needn't have worried, as the hand-off went without any issue.

Two hours later, Illya was back in the office he shared with his partner, prepping for an upcoming assignment. A while later, Napoleon entered and greeted the Russian.

"Did the hand-off go well?" Illya asked.

"No problem," Napoleon replied. "My contact was a little worried about being followed, but nothing came of it."

"Occupational Hazard I suppose."

Napoleon studied the expression on Illya's face, but there was nothing there other than mild interest.

"Too true," he replied. "By the way, you need to work on your tailing techniques. I knew you were following me almost immediately."

Solo was impressed by Illya's lack of reaction. The man merely shrugged.

"I will not apologise," he stated.

"I wouldn't expect you too, Tovarisch," Napoleon responded, with a laugh. "I'm just glad you're there to watch my back."


	7. Memories

"I've found the most wonderful vintage towel hooks," Aurora enthused, searching for the relevant catalogue.

Looking at the picture, Napoleon's mind was instantly transported to another time; a time of adventure, danger, intrigue and, of course, women. It was also the time he'd met his closest friend.

"Are you okay, Grandpa?"

"I'm more than okay, Sweetheart," he replied, with a wistful smile. "These hooks are perfect".


	8. Filing Fail

"Did you get lost?" Napoleon asked, as his partner entered the office. "You went for that file two hours ago.

"I decided to reorganise some of the files, as they did not appear to be where they should."

"Is Mrs Garvey aware that you have been messing with her domain?"

"I am certain that she will be grateful for the changes I have made. It all makes much more sense now.

The office door suddenly opened to reveal, an extremely angry, Mrs Garvey.

"I'm certain Mr Waverly wanted to see me," Napoleon said hurriedly, leaving his partner to his fate.


	9. Paperwork

Napoleon watched with amused interest as Illya picked up and rearranged the three folders on his desk.

"Are you planning a card trick?" he asked.

"These three reports are all due today but I'll only get two of them done before I have to head out for that dead drop," Illya replied, ignoring his partner's teasing tone. "I'm trying to decide which to prioritise."

"Just do what I do," Solo suggested.

"What would that be?"

"Get someone who ranks below you to do the third one."

Napoleon ducked as a stapler was flung, with force, across the room towards him.


	10. Inconsiderate

"AAAAHHH-TCHOOOOO!"

"Bless you, Tovarisch."

"It is not blessings I need, but a more considerate partner."

"What do you mean by that? You can't blame me for you being ill."

"If I had not been standing lookout in the driving rain, while you were inside seducing that Thrush courier, I would not have developed this cold in the first place."

"Would you have preferred to seduce her?"

"I would have employed an entirely different method."

"My way was way more fun."

"You certainly did not need to take so long over it."

"Hey, there are some things you simply don't rush."


	11. A promise

The evening had been wonderful but was coming to an end far too soon. The dance floor was filled with young soldiers, all of whom were clinging, a little more tightly than they would ever admit, to their girls. They were all scared of the battles they were heading to, but they couldn't allow their wives and girlfriends to know it. They were men, and they had to be brave.

Alexander Waverly carefully guided Veronica Prescott in a slow waltz. He allowed himself to get lost in her smiling blue eyes, which perfectly matched the gown she was wearing. He was nervous about heading to war, but there was something else he had to do which made battle pale into insignificance.

When the last dance was finished, and it was time for everyone to leave, Alexander drew Veronica aside. He invited her to sit down before kneeling on one knee. Veronica gasped. She knew what was about to happen, but managed to keep silent.

"My dear Veronica," Alexander began, as though writing a letter. "I'm not one for gushing sentimentality, but I want to make a promise to you, provided you can make a promise to me."

"Anything for you, Alex, you know that."

Extracting a small jewellery box from his pocket, Alexander opened it to reveal a ring, which housed a small, red garnet. He chose the stone deliberately because it represented passionate devotion.

"If I promise to come back to you, will you promise to marry me upon my return?"

"Of course I will, my darling," Veronica replied, holding her left hand out for her new fiancé to slip the ring on. "Just make sure that you do return."

"You have my word on it."

Rising to his feet, Alexander pulled Veronica up and into an embrace. He then kissed her lightly.

"I won't be so fearful knowing I have you waiting for me."


	12. Tovarisch

"Doesn't that annoy you?" Luke Herrera asked Illya, as Napoleon left the commissary.

"What do you mean?"

"The way he calls you Tovarisch. Don't you find it insulting? I've heard you berating people for calling you that."

"It is not insulting from him," Illya told him.

"It means Comrade, doesn't it?" Luke enquired.

"Yes," Illya confirmed. "I admit that when people here call me Tovarisch or comrade it does annoy me. It is usually said as an insult."

"So what makes Napoleon different?"

"He knows what the word means, beyond the translation. He has earned the right to us it."


	13. Stand-Off

Two pairs of blue eyes, equal in intensity, glowered unflinchingly. The owners of the eyes each held a gun aimed at the other, and neither was going to be the first to blink. This stand-off had been going on for only about a minute but, to the only observer of the tableau, it felt like hours.

Stepping between the two blondes, Napoleon forced Illya and Angelique to lower their weapons.

"You'd better go," he told his some-time lover.

When she'd gone, Napoleon turned to face the icy glare of Illya. He was in for long journey back to the office.


	14. Too Late

He ran, as fast as he was able, through the corridors of U.N.C.L.E. Everyone who saw him, and the look of fear on his face, hurriedly stepped out of his way. The man was on a mission and God help anyone who got in the way.

Reaching his destination, he burst through the doors, only to be greeted by the sad faces of the staff. One of the women looked particularly distraught.

He was too late.

"I'm sorry Mr Kuryakin," said the cook wretchedly. "I had a plate of goulash put aside for you, but it was somehow given away."


	15. Escape

Leaving the building without looking back, the agent smiled, and silently congratulated himself on his success. It had ben been a hard fought battle but he had finally escaped. He had almost given up at one point, believing himself to be beaten, but his stubborn side had come to his rescue.

Running his fingers through his blond hair, he breathed a contented sigh and tried to forget what he was leaving behind; even though it was only temporary.

Illya was looking forward to his two week vacation, with the promise of not being called back to duty within that time.


	16. One Day, Hopefully

Waiting in the car for Illya to return with the dead-drop package, Napoleon's attention was drawn to a wedding party at the church across the street. Despite the happy scene, Solo's heart was filled with a sadness.

Most people believed that, because of his womanising ways, Napoleon wasn't interested in anything long term. In reality, he would love to marry one day, but couldn't risk giving his heart away while still on field duty. He couldn't bear the thought of causing worry to a woman he loved.

Until his wedding day came, Napoleon would continue his series of empty assignations.


	17. A Matter of Practicality

"Please tell me you can do it?" April pleaded, as the man she was talking to gave some thought to her requirements. "It will really make my day to day life much easier, and will be far more convenient."

As far as she was concerned, her request was a simple one, and long overdue. It was all a matter of practicality.

"I can't see any problems, Miss Dancer," Del Floria assured her. "Bring the pants you want altering and I'll happily insert some pockets.

"Thank you," April replied, with a smile. "Carrying a purse can be quite a pain sometimes.


	18. Through the Fourth Wall

"I hate it when the weather gets hot," Napoleon moaned, wiping his brow.

"I thought you liked summer," Illya replied. "Especially as it means more female flesh on show."

"I'm not complaining about that," Solo said, wistfully. "I just worry what _they_ will do?"

"They? Who are you talking about?"

"You know," Napoleon whispered. "The ones on the other side of the screen who like to torment us. I just know they'll have mentally dressed us in skimpy swimwear."

"They will now you've said that," Illya chided.

He looked around, wondering what _they_ would have in store over the summer.


	19. No Rest

"I'm sorry to have to do this," said Alexander Waverly, as he looked over to Solo and Kuryakin. "But I really do need my top people on this assignment."

Napoleon and Illya looked to each other. Both men were tired after having no time off for almost a month. They had been about to head out of HQ for a week's leave when Waverly had called them back.

"Our job is to answer the call when it comes, Sir," Illya told his boss.

Napoleon agreed, keeping his frustration to himself.

"Thank you, gentlemen. I will make it up to you."


	20. Object of Lust

"Did you see that white outfit Illya went out in this morning?" Jeanie Logan blurted out, as she sat down with her colleague in the commissary.

"Yes," Gabby Maxwell replied with eagerness. "I thought he looked good in black, but that whole white look really suits him."

"It's a pity it is only for an assignment," Jeanie continued. "I wonder if it would possible to get a still from the security footage."

Sitting at the next table, April Dancer leaned over to whisper to the two women.

"What you have just suggested is highly unethical, but leave it with me."


	21. Map Reading

"Are we lost again?" Illya asked, with obvious exasperation.

"We are not lost," Solo replied, "I've just momentarily lost my bearings. I'll have us back on track very shortly."

After a couple of minutes of studying the map, turning it every which way, Napoleon finally worked out there location and told Illya which way to go.

"We need some sort of computer built into the car which has maps programmed into it, and which gives directions," said Solo.

"I doubt anything like that will ever become a reality," Illya replied. "All I need is a partner who can read maps."


	22. Welcome

"Hi, I'm Napoleon Solo, and I'd like to welcome you to U.N.C.L.E."

Annie Hills, the newest member of the communications department, shook Napoleon's proffered hand and thanked him.

"So you're Mr Solo," she replied, in a way which suggested she already knew everything about him.

"You've heard of me?" he asked. "Isn't this your first day?"

"Of course, I've heard of you," Annie told him. "We were told the chain of command during induction. You came up after the induction session also."

"Oh yes?"

"Oh yes," she echoed. "And to save you a little time, I'll be free at 8."


	23. The Dreaded Lurgy

As soon as the elevator doors opened, onto the floor which housed Section 7, Napoleon could hear the sounds of illness. From behind every door he passed he heard coughing, sneezing, and nose blowing. He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and covered his mouth and nose. Before he reached the room he was headed for, Amanda Serrell opened the door and waved him back.

"I need a cover story arranging for an assignment," Napoleon told her.

"If I were you, I'd call from your office," she replied. "You don't want to spend too much time around here."

"Illya's in our office, in a similar state of health," he complained.

"Typhoid Mary you mean."

"Pardon?"

"That partner of yours gave his cold to at least three of the women in this department," Amanda explained.

Napoleon headed back up to his office wondering how many dates Illya had been on recently.


	24. Would You Adam and Ave it?

Napoleon and Illya stared, in a state of confusion, as Mark's informant spoke.

"I 'eard a _dicky bird_ that the geezer you want will be in the _rub-a-dub_ across the _frog and toad_ tonight.

"Are you sure?" Mark asked.

"I don't tell no _porkies_. Now, I ain't got time to _rabbit,_ I need a _Jimmy_."

"What on Earth did he just say?" asked Napoleon, as the man wandered away.

"He said he's heard the man we want will be in the pub across the street tonight. He then said he hasn't got time to talk because he needs to urinate."

 _Cockney Rhyming Slang_

 _Adam and Eve – Believe_

 _Dicky bird – Word_

 _Rub-a-dub – Pub_

 _Frog and Toad - Road_

 _Porkies – (Pork pies) Lies_

 _Rabbit – (Rabbit and Pork) Talk_

 _Jimmy – (Jimmy Riddle) Piddle_


	25. Such a Waste

It felt like a betrayal. In fact, it was a betrayal, of his home and of his heritage. There were few things which Illya Kuryakin considered sacred, but this was a symbol of home. Although he had no immediate wish to go back, he missed his homeland on occasion. The action he was about to commit was the closest he would ever come to his own version of blasphemy.

With a heavy sigh, Illya stuffed a rag into the neck of the vodka bottle and, after setting it alight, he threw the Molotov cocktail at the gates of the compound.


	26. Visitors

Illya entered Napoleon's apartment, and called out his presence. The American had 'done a Kuryakin' and escaped from medical earlier than he should. Illya asked how it was okay for Solo, and not him.

"My doctor allowed me to leave on the proviso I agree to having people check on me three times a day."

"And who will be doing that?"

"Well, today, Harriet is coming at ten, Marie at three, and Joan at eight. Tomorrow it will be . . ."

Illya held up his hand to stop him and wondered just how many women would be visiting Napoleon.


	27. Perfect Partners

For a secret agent, Napoleon Solo was extremely adept at being noticed. He could enter a room and have every person present watching his every move immediately. He could be loud and gregarious while throwing money around in an ostentatious manner. All of this served to allow Illya to do what he was expert at.

Kuryakin could practically make himself invisible in an empty room. In a crowd, in which Napoleon was holding court, he could go absolutely unnoticed; an ideal situation for planting listening devices or trackers.

This was one of the things which made them the perfect partners.


	28. Cars

Napoleon smiled with amusement as he entered the U.N.C.L.E. car pool. Not knowing he was being observed, Illya was caressing the hood of one of the vehicles, while looking longingly at another. He suddenly turned and strode over to a third, before going back to the first one. Napoleon stepped out into the open.

"Have you decided which one to take yet? He asked.

Illya managed not to show that his partner had startled him.

"It matters not which vehicle we use, as long as it serves its purpose."

"Keep telling yourself that, Tovarisch," Napoleon replied, with a knowing grin.


	29. Inspiration

"Sit down, gentleman," Mr Waverly instructed, without looking up from the file he was reading.

Napoleon and Illya sat in silence as they waited for their boss. Eventually, the old man gave them his attention.

"I am informed that the Section 7 secretarial pool are not filing your reports when they should be," he told them. "Why would this be?"

"I honestly couldn't say Sir," Napoleon replied, with a shrug.

"I believe there are varying reasons," Illya stated. "Many have recently had a lot more to do, some are having health issues, while others seem to be a little unmotivated. These are all things which happen in an office from time to time but, this time, it all appears to have occurred simultaneously."

"How would either of you suggest we resolve this issue?"

A grin appeared on Napoleon's face.

"I'm sure that, between us, Illya and I can provide inspiration."


	30. Spillage

A huge man towered over Illya in a threatening manner. The Russian had accidently spilled the man's drink, and he had taken exception. He had tried smooth things over by offering to replace the drink, but the man was intent on retribution. Unfortunately, he made the mistake many people did when faced with the short, slightly built agent.

The thug was drawing his arm back to punch Illya, when he unexpectedly found himself lying on his back, with a heavily bleeding nose. Illya glared down at him.

"Next time, I suggest you accept the replacement drink when it is offered."


	31. A Matter of Pride

"That didn't take long," Napoleon commented as Illya emerged from interrogation.

"Some people do not take as long to break as others," his partner responded.

Solo couldn't fail to miss the glint of gratification in his partner's eyes. There was also an aura of pride emanating from the man. He was aware that Illya felt satisfaction when interrogating a Thrush, but there was something different this time.

"What did you do to get him to talk?"

"I merely said four words and they scared him into talking,"

"And what were they?"

The Russian's chest visibly swelled.

"I am Illya Kuryakin."


	32. Balloons

It had been a quiet day which had afforded Napoleon and Illya a chance to go out for lunch. Strolling back to the office they had to negotiate past a man selling balloons. As they manoeuvred around him, Napoleon noticed that Illya seemed to take a much wider berth than was necessary. He was even more surprised to note the mixed expression of fear and anxiety on his partner's face.

"Don't you like balloons?" Solo asked, more than a little concerned.

Illya's reply was surprising, given his love of explosives.

"I do not like the loud bang when they burst."


	33. Unbottling

Not for the first time, Illya Kuryakin managed to avoid his appointment with the U.N.C.L.E. psychiatrist and went straight home after the latest mission debriefing.

With the job he did, Illya fully understood the reasons for the sessions. He lived an exceptionally stressful life in which he saw, and did, some terrible things. Every agent needed a way to work through the feelings produced by such a life, as bottling them up could lead to a mental or physical breakdown

From a very young age, all Illya had needed to expresses his emotions, was to listen to or play music.


	34. A Common Problem

With a heavy sigh, Illya Kuryakin snatched the half written report from his typewriter and, after scrunching it up, he threw it in the waste basket. Putting in a fresh sheet, he placed his fingers in the start position; where they remained,

"Are you having problems, Tovarisch?" Napoleon asked

"I am fluent in five languages and can get by in four others," Illya told him.

"Why is that relevant?"

"Despite our last assignment being fairly straightforward, the ability to write the report has seemingly deserted me."

Napoleon nodded with understanding. It was a problem many people in U.N.C.L.E. were having.


	35. Eviction

After tapping out his coded knock on the door, Napoleon let himself into Illya's apartment. They were both on a few days leave following an extended assignment of several weeks and Solo had decided to repay one of the many lunches he owed Illya. Solo found the Russian at the top of a ladder, flicking a feather duster.

"I hate having to evict all the spiders when I return from assignment," Illya grumbled, by way of a greeting.

"I have a woman who comes in once a week," Napoleon told him.

"I am sure you do."

"To clean the apartment," Solo replied, in response to Illya's snarky comment. "Maybe you should hire yourself a cleaner."

"I do not want someone I do not know in my private space," Illya told him, as he climbed down the ladder. "Besides, with all the money I loan you, I could not afford one."


	36. Lost Cause

"I really do not like it, Napoleon," said Illya Kuryakin, after giving his partner's suggestion a great deal of critical thought. "It will not be able to pull it off, and could lead to too much attention."

"It isn't exactly a high risk," Solo responded, with an irritatingly encouraging grin. "I honestly believe you will be able to make it work. Trust me."

Illya removed the brown hounds-tooth jacket and handed it back to Napoleon.

"I will stick with muted, non-patterned suits." Illya told him.

Napoleon sniffed, dismissively. His partner was a lost cause when it came to sartorial elegance.


	37. Renewal

Entering the office he shared with his partner, Illya found Napoleon leafing through a magazine.

"You are very busy I see," he commented, as he sat down and prepared his typewriter.

"This is work related," Napoleon countered, holding the magazine up for Illya to see. "The Old Man has finally given me the go ahead for my request."

Illya stood up again, and crossed over to take a closer look. The magazine turned out to be a catalogue.

"Has Mr Waverly warned accounting?" Illya said, with a sarcastic grin. "You redecorating this office will blow their budget for the year."


	38. Looking Forward

"Well, Tovarisch, we've survived another year."

"There are still four more days left."

"Always the pessimist. I thought my positivity might have had an effect by now."

"Believe me, my friend, you have changed me more than you could know."

"How so?"

"Although I expect my life to end on a daily basis, I still allow myself the luxury of making plans for the distant future. There was a time when I could not envisage reaching old age, and yet, thanks to you and your incessant optimism, I can almost see my grandchildren."

"I can't wait to meet them. Illya."


	39. Start as You Mean to Go On

The clocks were striking midnight, marking the beginning of January 1st, as the two agents ran for the lives towards the wall which would lead to their freedom. They quickly scrabbled up and dropped down the other side, without a thought for the height of the wall. Barely breaking stride upon landing, they sprinted for the relative safety of the trees.

After a few minutes, with no sounds of pursuit behind them, they stopped, gasping for breath.

"Well, Illya, you should always start the year as you mean to go on," Napoleon panted. "And we certainly hit the ground running."


	40. Sooner Than Hoped

He'd led a good life, and had always striven to be a force for good in the world. It may not have been a blameless life, and although some of his sexual exploits would probably cause a few eyebrows to be raised amongst his grandmother's church group, he wasn't entirely immoral. However, Napoleon was certain that on the grand scale of good versus evil, he would still find himself on the right side, and that this would grant him special favours. Surely, for a man who was prepared to sacrifice himself for the security of the world, a little leeway could be granted by God. Or the universe. Or Mother Nature.

He'd always known that this day would come, but somehow thought he would have had longer.

"What is wrong, my friend?" asked Illya, with genuine concern. Solo had been quiet all day.

"I found a grey hair this morning."


	41. Not Yet

With Mr Waverly being away on a rare vacation, Napoleon was standing in as acting chief. As Illya entered the Old Man's office, he couldn't help but notice that Solo was sitting in the chair next to the one Waverly sat in.

"I am sure he would not mind if you sat in his seat," the Russian commented.

Napoleon glanced at the empty chair, which was larger, and slightly more padded than the others around the table.

"I'm only borrowing this job," Napoleon replied, with a slight smile. "I'll sit in that chair when, and if, the proper time comes."


	42. Misquote

Every last detail had been worked out, and many contingencies had been built in, yet the plan had still failed. U.N.C.L.E. had not been aware that their Thrush target had a wife, who was able to spirit him away from under their noses.

"I suppose it was true what Burns said," Napoleon stated, with a sigh. "The best laid plans of mice and men, oft gan a-gley."

"That isn't quite correct, Mr Solo," Waverly told him. "The line is 'The best laid schemes o' mice and men, gang aft a-gley'. Still, I take your point. We can't win them all."


	43. expendable

They were expendable; tools to use as a means to an end. This is what Alexander Waverly told himself to justify sending young people to their possible deaths. He even told the agents themselves on occasion.

Truth be told, he worried about every single one them; especially his top team of Solo and Kuryakin. Waverly didn't generally allow himself to get too close to his agents but, it was difficult not to have a soft spot for that pair.

The desk communicator chirruped and the voice of Solo announced they had reached safety.

Waverly allowed himself a smile of relief.


	44. Fab

There were screaming teenagers everywhere and the noise was almost unbearable. Security at JFK airport, along with the police, was doing its best but the task was impossible.

Standing away from the crowds, Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin waited for their assignment to begin.

"We will have to go through that soon," Illya complained, not relishing the thought. "I understand that these people require protection, but why is it U.N.C.L.E.'s job?"

Napoleon shrugged.

"It's good for our public image I suppose," he replied. "You should be careful anyway. With that mop of yours you might be mistaken for a Beatle."


	45. Where's Napoleon

Three minutes after entering U.N.C.L.E. New York's HQ , Illya Kuryakin had decided he hated Valentine's Day. He had no problems with the idea of love and romance, or of openly declaring it, he merely disliked the way it affected the women of the command. He had a particular issue with those who were hoping for a date with his partner. In the short time it took him to get to his office from Del Floria's, he was asked where Napoleon was no fewer than twelve times.

Arriving at the office, Illya found an envelope, addressed to him, lying on his desk. Opening it, he found a note from Napoleon.

 _Tovarisch,_

 _I'm taking a personal a day. If anyone other than Waverly asks where I've gone, tell them I'm on assignment. Before you roll your eyes, I'm absolutely NOT avoiding the ladies._

 _N.S._

"I shall have his teeth for cufflinks."


	46. Picking Up a Pick Up Pick

Napoleon watched on thoughtfully as Illya strummed a guitar in the commissary. The instrument had been bought by one of the secretaries, as a gift for her young son, and she had asked Illya if he would tune it. Naturally, this had led to the Russian played a few tunes, and the ladies flocked around to listen. Solo had grown up learning the piano, but there seemed to be something more sensual about the guitar.

Illya finished his impromptu recital, and joined his partner for lunch.

"Tovarisch?" Napoleon said. "How would you like to give me a few guitar lessons?"


	47. Migraine

The lights were subdued in the office Napoleon shared with his partner. The Russian in question was laid on the office's small sofa, wearing fully dark sunglasses. There was an ice pack resting on his forehead and he was rubbing his temples.

"Migraine?" Solo asked.

"Hmm mm."

"Do you want me to take the secretaries' security refresher?"

"Hmm."

As soon as Napoleon left, Illya sat up and smiled. He didn't have anything against the secretaries, apart from the way they giggled around him, he simply had other plans. The door opened, and Roberta from accounts entered.

"Ready for lunch, Illya?"


	48. Dance Class

Returning from a month long assignment, Napoleon was surprised to find out what his partner had doing during his absence.

"Is it true that you're teaching a dance class?" he asked, when he finally saw him.

"Yes," Illya replied. "It has been noticed that I am very flexible, as well as fit, and I was asked what my secret was. I explained that I practiced the dancing of my homeland whenever I am able. A few people expressed an interest in joining my training sessions."

"I may come along," Solo commented.

"Good idea," Kuryakin replied, surreptitiously glancing at Napoleon's abdomen.


	49. Resilience

Dropping to his knees, onto the frozen, snowy ground, Napoleon admitted defeat. He had escaped from his Thrush captors only to find himself in a frozen wasteland. Having had his communicator and equipment confiscated, he'd had no choice but to make his way on foot. Napoleon's only consolation was the warm coat he had been furnished with. That had been hours ago, and exhaustion was about ready to take him.

As he prepared to let go, Napoleon noticed the yellow petals of a flower growing through the snow. He didn't know a great deal about flowers, other than the fact they cost him a pretty penny from the florist, but he knew something about this one. If that delicate bloom could make it through the snow, then so could he. With an almost superhuman effort, Napoleon pulled himself to his feet and recommenced his journey. He would soon be home.


	50. The Stand-In

Rising up from his hiding place behind a filing cabinet, Illya cautiously looked around for his partner. Seeing no sign of him, he was about to make a run for it, when Mark Slate stepped into the room.

"What are you doing, Illya?" he asked. "If you're practicing concealment, then I'm afraid you've failed."

"Where is Napoleon?" the Russian whispered.

"In the commissary, last I saw. Why?"

"He is attempting to persuade me to make a fourth for a date with the Grogan twins" Illya told him. "Having done so before, I found them both uninteresting."

"Grogan twins?" Mark mused. "Green eyed brunets, with prominent . . . assets?"

"Yes."

Mark smiled. He knew of the twins and, while they weren't the brightest of girls, they were very good company.

"You can stop hiding, my dear Mr Kuryakin," he stated. "I am more than willing to stand in for you."


	51. The Silent Assassin

Wearing black clothes, and soft soled shoes, he was able to move through the darkness like an unseen, silent shadow. It was a skill he had learned as a child, and one which he had worked hard to hone. Ahead of him, he could see his target. The man's back was facing him so, with absolutely no sound, he unsheathed his knife. However, before he could make his move, the target suddenly turned and landed a knockout blow with his fist.

Illya looked down at his unconscious attacker with contempt.

"You will have to do better than that," he muttered.


	52. The Same Coin

They were from different sides of the cold war; one an American, the other Russian. One was always well polished and dapper, and the other, while not scruffy, was not so concerned with appearance. The American was gregarious, open-hearted, and warm. Due to circumstances of childhood, the Russian was reserved, reticent, and perceived to be cold.

"Illya, down!"

As the Russian dropped, he was able to take out the man who was about to kill Napoleon, while the American did the same for Illya.

They were very different people, yet they were perfectly matched, and in tune with one another.


	53. Uncanny Resemblance

"What are you going to call it?"

Napoleon heard the question coming from a huddle of secretaries, who were passing around a photograph, and began to wonder who had been pregnant. Reaching the group he discovered that it was actually a photograph of a kitten.

"What do you think?" Jenny asked him, handing him the image. "What should I call him?"

"Well, let me see," he said, studying the photograph. "With the scruffy pale hair, blue eyes, and the ability to make women sigh, I think you should call him Illya."

"Call who Illya," asked the Russian, as he also entered the room.

Napoleon showed him the kitten.

"If you wished to name the cat after me, I would have no objection."

He tried to keep his tone, and his expression, completely neutral, but failed.

"It is a handsome animal," he said, with a grin. "I can see the resemblance."


	54. Heart of a Killer

He tried not to kill if he didn't have to. Whenever possible he would arm himself with sleep darts or, when an explosion was needed, he gave anyone in the vicinity a chance to get away. Unfortunately, there were times when death was the objective, and this was when he came into his own. He was a highly trained assassin who would carry out his orders impeccably.

He tried not to kill if he didn't have to. However, when it did become necessary, Illya Kuryakin was the model of cold, ruthless efficiency. A fact which distressed him to the core.


	55. Back Up

"I'm sorry, Alice," said Napoleon, sadly. "I find myself a little short of funds today, so I'll have to postpone our date. I promise we'll go dancing next week."

"Oh Napoleon, I was so looking forward to being held in your arms," Alice purred, making Solo feel worse than he already did.

Leaning against the wall while he waited for his partner to finish his conversation, Illya rolled his eyes and sighed. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his money clip and handed it to Solo

"Looks like we're going dancing after all," said Napoleon, with a huge grin.


	56. Keeping Up Appearances

As it was a pleasant day, Illya decided to get off the subway two stops earlier than necessary in order to walk to the office. He couldn't help but smile at how relaxed he felt. New York had only been his home for a few months, but the feeling of freedom he had was intoxicating. Of course, his life still wasn't his own but, when he was off duty, he could live it as his own.

During the walk, Illya called in to a deli he often frequented, and picked up something for his lunch. He spent several minutes enjoying a bit of small-talk with the proprietor before continuing on. The warm sun on his face once again brought a smile to his face and he found himself whistling a cheery tune.

The closer he got to HQ, the more his expression changed to his usual aloofness. All signs of the relaxed, happy Kuryakin faded entirely. Stepping into Del Floria's, he gave the tailor a terse nod before heading through the changing room into reception. Barely acknowledging Janine, he took his badge and went to start his day.

"I wish he wasn't such a misery," the receptionist muttered to herself.


	57. Belonging

Throughout his life, Illya Kuryakin had never quite felt as though he'd fitted in fully with whatever social group he'd found himself in. It wasn't that he actively distanced himself from people, just that it was safer to keep himself remote. All that changed when it came to his involvement with U.N.C.L.E.

Despite his taciturn demeanour, he soon found himself enjoying the company and friendship of several different people.

Entering the commissary, he smiled broadly as Napoleon, Mark, and April waved him over. It had taken many years, but he had finally felt as though he was somewhere he belonged.


	58. Recruitment Campaign

"I knew we would end up looking ridiculous," Illya complained, "I am pleased that this Section 2 recruitment campaign is internal. I would not want the general public seeing this."

"What's wrong with it?" Napoleon asked. "I think I look quite dashing."

"You look like you need a weapons refresher," Illya told him. "You have your finger on the trigger and the gun pointing at my face."

"It wasn't loaded," Solo responded sulkily, knowing Illya's point was valid. "Maybe you are right though. We don't want to give the wrong impression. Come on then, let's get some new pictures done."


	59. The Thrush Interrogator

The Thrush interrogator made the same mistake as many who had come before him. He had seen the short, slight, baby-faced man and assumed he would break without effort.

The Thrush interrogator couldn't believe the stories he'd heard about his subject. There was simply no way that the innocent looking young blond could be the ruthless killer, with ice in his veins, that he was purported to be.

The Thrush interrogator soon learned not to judge a man on his appearance, and to always secure a subject. He also learned that Illya Kuryakin didn't always kill; unlike his Thrush masters.


	60. Perfect Spot

"I could lie here all day," murmured Napoleon, as he stretched on his lounger. "I can't believe we never thought of this sooner.

"You do have some good ideas on occasion," replied Illya, drowsily. "I must admit that I am very content. Hopefully nobody will need us for quite some time.

"Waverly's in a meeting and all the paperwork is up to date. We'll be fine."

"I know it's extremely hot outside," came the voice of the U.N.C.L.E. chef from the doorway. "But if any of the food in this cold store spoils, you will be paying for its replacement."


	61. Parking

Pulling up directly outside of Del Floria's, Solo and Kuryakin got out of the car and strode inside. Deep within the U.N.C.L.E.'s New York headquarters, two Section 3 agents watched the pair on the security monitor.

"Mr Waverly insists that all agents must park in the garage," said the first. "Yet those two just pull up outside. And isn't it weird how there's always a space for them?"

"They're the golden team," replied the second, with envy and derision. "I'm tempted to not tell them it is being stolen."

"What?!"

They watched, in stunned silence, as the car drove away.


	62. Clock Watching

He watched, with rapt attention, as the seconds slowly ticked away. Each one felt like a minute, while each minute felt like an hour. Waiting was something he was quite used to, having spent much of his working life on surveillance, but there were occasions when his patience left him. Each time the clocked ticked the tiny sound seemed more like an explosion in his impatient mind. It was taking everything he had not to jump the gun.

The sound of a buzzer came from the kitchen, followed by the voice of Napoleon announcing to Illya that dinner was ready.


	63. You Hit Me!

"I've just remembered Illya, you hit me earlier!"

"It could not have been too bad if you had forgotten about it."

"We've been busy since then. It doesn't change the fact that you hit me."

"It was not deliberate. We were in a brawl and you got in my way."

"You could have broken my nose."

"But I did not. Napoleon, you did not even bleed."

"It still hurt."

"I apologised immediately."

"I noticed that, but I don't think you were sincere."

"Of course I was."

"If you were truly sorry, then why were you smiling when you said it?"


	64. Paranoid Russian

"You're paranoid, Illya," Napoleon stated, as his partner grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

Whatever it was Illya thought he'd sensed, as they were about to get in the car, Napoleon was fairly certain it was just his naturally suspicious nature. Still, the Russian's instincts had saved them more than once.

"It is not paranoia if they really are out to get you," Illya replied.

Dropping to his knees, he shone his torch beneath the car. Seeing the bomb he'd known he would find, he beckoned Napoleon to join him on the ground.

"Okay, Tovarisch. So you're not paranoid."


	65. Code K2

Putting the phone down, Nurse Maisie Redfearn took a calming breath, before announcing to the nearby staff the code they feared the most.

"Code K2," she said, simply.

The reaction of the people around her was one of dread.

All medical units have a code system in place but the K codes belonged only to U.N.C.L.E. There were five levels of K code with K5 being the worst. It signified life-threatening injuries, and unlikely to survive.

K2 meant that the agent was hurt but conscious which, unfortunately, also meant angry.

The K codes belonged to only one agent.

Illya Kuryakin.


	66. Happy Birthday, Illya

"Happy thirty-fifth birthday, Tovarisch," Napoleon enthused, upon entering the office he shared with his partner.

With great ceremony, he placed a small cupcake in front of Illya, and lit the tiny candle he'd put in it.

"Only five years until you retire from the field."

"If I make it that far," the Russian replied, blowing out the candle.

"You'll make it," Solo told him, with conviction. "I would be very surprised if you weren't still kicking fifty years from now."

"I'll be eighty-five," Illya mused, running a hand through his blond locks. "I wonder if I'll still have my hair."


	67. Too Many

There'd been too many missions and far too many injuries; of himself and others. There were too many close calls, and more failures than he was comfortable admitting. Above all, there'd been far too many deaths. He didn't dare think of how many of those had been by his hand. All of them were justifiable, pretty much, but they were becoming too numerous. He wondered how many more he could take before he lost his mind.

"Ready to roll, Tovarisch?" asked Napoleon, breaking into his melancholy thoughts.

"Indeed," Illya replied, softly. "Let us go and save the world once again."


	68. The Good Guys

They own the darkness

But still walk in light

Always prepared

Up for the fight

With evil amongst us

Hidden from view

They risk their survival

To do what they do

They often get hurt

Some even die

But others step up

And with evil they vie

Two at the top

Who we all admire

Joined by a friendship

Which was forged in the Fire

One is American

And filled up with charm

But is dangerous to know

When others do harm

The other is a Russian

With icy blue eyes

He does what he can

So that nobody dies


	69. Laying in Supplies

"What's with the grocery bags, Illya? Do you often shop on your way into work?"

"I noticed that these were on a special offer, so I decided to get some in case I did not get time to go back, or the offer finished."

"What did you get? I hope it's not perishable because we are heading to Italy for four days tomorrow."

"It's my supply of Hallowe'en candy."

"Hallowe'en isn't for three weeks. Besides, we don't get many trick or treaters in here."

"You're not listening, Napoleon. This isn't for trick or treaters. This is _my_ supply of candy."


	70. Appreciation of Beauty

Storming into his office, Illya slammed a pile of photographs down on Napoleon's desk. Every single one of them was of Illya himself, and each had a suggestive comment written on the back. Some of the comments had even caused the worldly Russian to blush.

"I have just confiscated these from the secretarial pool," he snapped. "What is it about me they find so attractive?"

"No idea," Solo replied, as jealousy flickered across his handsome face.

He shuffled through the pile of images, which showed Illya in a variety of situations and moods, and frowned.

"Are there none of me?


	71. Almost Late Again

He ran.

It was all he could think about right now. If he thought of the reason for his running, his chest contracted and his stomach knotted, which made running at all quite difficult.

He'd seen the Thrush goons throw his bound partner into the water, then leave, while he was still some distance away. Reaching the pool, he dived in and quickly brought the drowning man to the surface.

"Almost late again, Napoleon," Illya gasped, though the slight smile showed his gratitude.

"You're too particular, Tovarisch," Solo replied, with a relieved laugh. "Almost late is better than actually late."


	72. Double Booked

"You seem unhappy today, Napoleon," Illya noted, as the pair headed to Waverly's office.

"I was stood up last night," Solo replied, in a tone which suggested the whole idea was impossible. "I was taking Candice for dinner, and was left sitting in the restaurant looking like a complete idiot."

Illya offered his sympathies, while carefully keeping his expression neutral. He made a mental note to seek out Candice and ask her to keep their cinema date an absolute secret.

Unfortunately, she'd already told everyone, and the office grapevine had it to Napoleon within minutes of them leaving Waverly's office.


	73. Survivor

As Napoleon helped his partner to the car, after being released from medical, he commented that the Russian had survived once again. Unbidden, Illya's mind flew back twenty-five years, to a day which was etched into his soul.

Hidden in a tree with his friend Kolya, he'd witnessed the brutal murder of his family, and other villagers. In utter shock, Kolya had asked what they should do. Despite his own feelings of fear and despair, Illya had responded with a single word, which belied his tender age.

Survive.

"Of course I did," Illya replied to Napoleon's comment. "I always do."


	74. Disturbing Sounds

Returning to their beach cabin base, after a search for food, Illya was alarmed to hear some disturbing noises coming from the bedroom. The sound was Napoleon grunting and panting, and it was clear that he was engaged in some sort of intense physical activity.

The room was separated from the main living area by a beaded curtain so, although Illya couldn't see what Napoleon was doing, the sounds told him enough. The big question was, where had Napoleon found a woman in the fifteen minutes Illya had been out? He suddenly became annoyed that his partner thought so little of him as to bring a woman to the cabin without telling him.

The Russian had no real wish to catch his partner 'sowing his wild oats', but a sort of morbid curiosity propelled him onward. For one, thing he wanted to know who the woman was. Cautiously pulling aside the beads of the curtain, Illya peered in, and then breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"You are out of condition," he stated, as Napoleon pulled himself up in another sit-up.

"Nonsense," Solo gasped, coming to a stop. He would never admit it, but he knew Illya had a point.


	75. A Top Secret Mission

No-one could know what they were carrying. Knowledge of it could have untold consequence, both within U.N.C.L.E. headquarters, and without. So, while Napoleon created various distractions, Illya slipped through the corridors almost unnoticed. Reaching the desk of Lisa Rogers, he nodded meaningfully. She was the keeper of Waverly's secrets, and knew exactly what Illya was carrying.

"Did you get it?" the Old Man asked, gruffly.

Illya handed the flask over.

"I was told to tell you that 'next time, you won't be let out of the house'."

Waverly smiled and sipped the contents of the flask. Veronica's chicken soup was just what he needed to fight the heavy cold he'd been struck down with. She hadn't been happy about him coming into the office, but Waverly refused to bow to sickness. He couldn't allow there to be any hint of weakness.

"Thank you, Mr Kuryakin. Speak of this to no-one."


	76. Nearly There

Another year was reaching its end, but Napoleon wasn't willing to celebrate just yet. That wouldn't happen until midnight on New Year's Eve. He always started each year wondering if this would be his final one, and wouldn't claim to have made it until it was completely finished. It was a sombre thought, but an understandable, as he'd almost lost his life on five occasions in the previous twelve months.

"Ready?" Illya asked, as he entered their shared office.

Napoleon nodded and grabbed his bag. Hopefully, they would survive the mission and make it to the end of the year.


	77. Onwards!

"Good morning, gentlemen. I trust the seasonal festivities proved a welcome, if brief, interlude."

Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin offered affirmative mumbles in response to Mr Waverly's greeting as they sat down in their customary positions at the large, round table.

"Good, good," the Old Man answered, pushing two folders towards his agents. "Unfortunately, the forces for evil never rest for long so must head them off as best, and as quickly as we can."

Napoleon and Illya glanced at each other with expressions of resignation. Theirs was a never ending mission, and all they could do was continue onwards.


	78. Petty Cash

"I submitted an expenses claim for $175 last month, and I've only been given $35." Napoleon Solo complained bitterly. "Those bean counters are going beyond frugality now. How did you fare, Tovarisch?"

Illya opened his own envelope and glanced at the amount. He allowed himself a small smile before shoving the envelope into his pocket.

"I have received everything to which I am entitled," he replied.

Napoleon frowned. That statement could mean Illya got everything he'd claimed for, or had been given a partial amount like him.

"Did you claim for much?"

"That is my business."

Illya decided it wasn't prudent to tell his partner that he had claimed for many of the same things he had, and had been fully reimbursed. It would seem that accounting had decided to pay out only the once for things they had doubled up on, and he had apparently won.

"I believe it is my turn to buy lunch," he stated, in an attempt to change the subject.

Unfortunately, this only served to make Napoleon suspicious. Illya never offered to pay for lunch unless he was feeling particularly well off.

Napoleon made a mental note to have words with the head of accounting.


	79. It Has its Perks

"How do you do it, Napoleon?" Rita cooed, as they both enjoyed the post-sex euphoria.

"Do what?"

"Put yourself in harm's way. Doesn't it scare you?"

"Not at all," he lied. "And I do it because someone has to."

"I think you're so brave."

Napoleon tried not to sigh. Bravery had nothing to do with it. A job had to be done, and he was one of the few chosen to do it. Besides, being a secret agent had its perks; travel, good food and, of course, beautiful women.

"Let's change the subject," he said, as he kissed her deeply.


	80. No Such Thing as Bad Weather

"How are you not shivering?" Napoleon demanded, as he and Illya sat watching a luxury yacht from a little fishing boat. "The air is like ice."

"It is my Slavic heritage."

Both men were bundled up against the elements, but Illya seemed comfortable, while Napoleon's teeth were chattering."

"I don't believe you," Solo countered. "Had you recently arrive from your homeland, I could accept that. But, you've been here too long, and grown soft."

"That is not what I meant," Illya told him, with a slight smile. "I was alluding to the fact that those of us from cold countries know how to dress for the weather. I understand that there is a saying, ' **There** is **no such thing as bad weather,** only unsuitable clothing'*."

"I suppose that your clothing is more suitable than mine."

"Indeed," the Russian confirmed. "I made sure I put on two sets of long johns."


	81. Competition

"I win once again," Illya stated triumphantly, with a 'cat that got the cream' grin.

"Don't you think that, maybe, all this competition between us is getting just a little out of hand," Napoleon replied, with a sour expression on his face.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but this one was your idea," said the Russian. "And, quite frankly, you should have known which way it would go."

"Thinking about it," Napoleon mused. "I rather think I'm glad to have lost this one."

"Why would that be?"

"Being the one who has had more broken bones is hardly a victory."


	82. Care

"Let me make one thing abundantly clear. I'll end this partnership as soon as possible. I don't care for you, and never will."

Those had been the first words Napoleon Solo had said to Illya Kuryakin upon leaving Mr Waverly's office, on their first day as partners.

Six years down the line, Illya recalled the words as he awoke in medical once again. Sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair, feet up on the bed, Napoleon Solo lightly dozed. Drifting back to sleep himself, Illya smiled, knowing that the friend who had hated him was watching over while he was vulnerable.


	83. The New Guy

Collecting his food at the commissary counter, Napoleon looked around for a seat in the busy room. At a table near the door, Section 3 agent, Jim French, waved him over and invited Solo to join him and another Section 3 called Dan Thomas. Napoleon nodded his thanks and sat in one of the two available chairs.

"So, Napoleon, which of you poor Section 2's is gonna get saddled with the new Commie agent?" Jim asked.

"He's not new," Solo replied, biting into his sandwich. "He's transferred from London."

"Still a Russkie though," Dan opined. "I wouldn't want to have to trust my life to him. You can't be sure of his loyalties."

As Dan finished speaking, the room fell silent as the door opened, and Illya Kuryakin entered. He seemed not to notice all the eyes staring at him until he turned to seek at a seat. Even then, he didn't give them the satisfaction of knowing that it bothered him.

Napoleon stuck his arm in the air and beckoned him over. Jim and Dan looked questioningly at him.

"What are you doing?" Jim hissed.

"Hey there, partner mine," Solo greeted the Russian warmly. "I've saved you a seat."


	84. Solo

Solo.

The word meant alone.

When it came to his career, the name had suited him very well. Solo had liked being solo, and wasn't happy when he'd been told he was to have a partner. To add insult to injury, it would be a Russian.

Waking up in the medical suite of U.N.C.L.E. New York, Napoleon smiled upon seeing Illya waiting by his bedside. He was alive thanks to that Russian. Had he still been living up to his name, he would have perished; alone. Solo.

Napoleon had been happy solo, but having a partner was much more preferable.


	85. A Woman of Ability

"Will you be alright if I nip to the loo," asked Mark Slate.

He and his partner, April Dancer, had just concluded a rendezvous with a contact, but the bar they were in wasn't exactly pleasant. The patrons were friendly enough. Most were a little too friendly around the classy red-head.

"I'll be fine, Darling," she replied. "Just don't be too long."

When Mark retuned, he found April re-touching her face powder while, at her feet, a man writhed in agony. He was clutching at his 'family jewels'.

"Everything okay, Luv?"

"Absolutely lovely!" April told him brightly. "Shall we go?"


	86. Body Language

Napoleon Solo was an expert at reading people. Their body language and facial expressions, no matter how minute, were an open book. When it came to the fairer sex, he had an advanced degree.

The woman he'd been watching was beautiful, which was what had drawn his eye, but she wasn't the carefree lady of leisure she was projecting. Solo could read the tension in her stance, and the way she held her hand close to her purse.

It was thanks to this highly developed skill that Napoleon was able to neutralise the female assassin before she could kill him.


	87. Black and White

Nothing in life was entirely black or white.

Illya Kuryakin had spent far too long operating in a shadowy world to think of life as being anything other than many shades of grey. Nothing would ever be clear cut in international espionage business. It was a world of secrets and lies, and of cloaks and daggers. Trust was a rare commodity and, even within a strong bond, skeletons could still be buried.

Nothing in life was entirely black or white; with one exception. If it came down to his life, or that of an innocent, his would always be forfeit.


	88. But First, Coffee

Napoleon Solo closed the cover of the mission file he was reading with a resounding 'thwack'. From the way it read, he and Illya were going to be away for at least a week and, he was in no doubt that it was going to get dangerous. He looked across to his partner, who was reading it through for a second time.

"I'm going to get a cup of coffee," the American stated. "How about you?"

"We are leaving shortly," the Russian replied.

"There's always plenty of time for coffee," Solo answered. "We drink, we leave, we save the world."


	89. Missed Deadline

"Napoleon, have you finished that report yet?"

Solo looked up at Lisa Rogers, who'd just entered his office.

"Almost," he replied." I need to tidy up some loose ends."

"To quote Mr Waverly, 'we have deadlines for a reason. Tell Mr Solo to get his finger out'."

Napoleon crinkled his nose in annoyance.

"Illya is better at this than me," he complained. "He knows how to set the facts out in a more coherent way."

"Well, he's not so injured that he can't operate a typewriter," Lisa stated.

"You're right! And it's not like he has anything else to do."


	90. Ancient Coding

After a long search of the defeated Thrush's office, the only thing Napoleon found that caught his attention was a long strip of paper. It had a random assortment of letters written along it.

"What do you think of this?" he asked his partner. "Mark and April found two of these last week."

Having only just returned from Greece, Illya was slightly out of the loop, but he instantly recognised the paper for what it was. During his downtime in Athens, he'd spent time in museums; where he had seen one.

"It's a Scytale," he told Napoleon. "There should be a rod with it."

Napoleon opened the drawer in which he'd found the paper. Sure enough, he found a hexagonal rod. He handed it, and the paper strip, to Illya. The Russian carefully wound the strip around the wood and showed Solo the result. The meaningless letters had magically become words. The design of the rod meant that six lines containing eight letters could be ciphered. All that was needed was to work out where the spaces would go.

"Thrush have returned to ancient methods," said Illya.

"Let's hope they don't realise too quickly that we have their new secret."


	91. A Question

Napoleon lit two cigarettes and handed one to Angelique. The lay in post coital silence for several minutes, before Napoleon decided to ask a question.

"Would you actually kill me if you were ordered to?"

"But of course, Darling," the blonde replied, taking a draw of her cigarette. "You would be missed, but we are on different sides after all."

Napoleon smiled. He hadn't expected any other answer, and that was what made their affair all the more fun. Luckily, he didn't see the frown which fleeted across her features. Truth be told, she wasn't certain she could kill him.


	92. Deep Thoughts

"I wonder what he's thinking about," whispered Monica, as she dreamily watched Illya Kuryakin at the next table in the commissary.

The Russian was sitting, with his chin resting in his hand, while his partner flirted with someone on another next table.

"Probably the Argentina assignment they're heading out on today," Sylvia quietly replied to her colleague. "I dread to think what goes through their minds before they step into danger."

"Kopek for your thoughts, Tovarisch," said Napoleon, turning back to his partner.

The two women listened intently for the answer to Monica's question.

"Is there time for another dessert?"


End file.
